Boasting not the best of bardcraft,
Still I seek to stories tell,
Long for laurels and laud and honor,
Yearn for youths of years to come
To know my name, not forget it
When the grave gapes and gathers me in,
Sleep-space in common. So I write,
Pushing a pen or the pixels fixing
That show on the screen, seen, hopefully,
Maybe by many; I must act so.
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